A Glimpse
by A Matter of Unimportance
Summary: Of Matt, Mello, and the things that they may or may not get themselves into.
1. Purple Promise

A/N: Alright, this is a sort of project thingy here, and I feel that I need to explain myself. This came about from an assortment of those highly entertaining magnetic words that you can stick to chalkboards, etc. to form poetry. I was playing around with these in Creative Writing class, and I decided to come up with 50 random prompts. They are completely random, and some might not even make sense, but I think that's the beauty of it. Here you have my first experiment with one of these prompts, a Matt and Mello oneshot. I might continue, and add on with the other prompts, or I might skip off to some of my other happy fandoms that I fangirl over incessantly in my head, depending on my mood (latest fangirling obsession). :D However, I'll always come back to this. With that said, I hope you enjoy this.

27. Purple Promise

Matt was there because he'd made a promise to Mello. And, in some ways, Mello had made a promise to Matt, too.

Matt promised to help Mello catch Kira. And, they both knew Matt would run across the continent and back if Mello told him to. He also promised to take his smoking outside, trekking down three flights of stairs and out the door of the apartment complex to chain smoke for half an hour, only to walk back up all of those stairs when he was done. Matt did it because he knew Mello didn't like the smell, and could shoot him for it if highly irritated or provoked.

Mello told Matt that he wouldn't blow himself up again, and that maybe he'd at least try to stay out of trouble. And that was simple enough for Matt; to at least give him some peace of mind so he wouldn't have to worry so much every time he went out to buy chocolate, cigarettes, and the newest version of Pokémon.

Most of all, they promised to be there for each other. No more running off when things got bad, no more hiding from each other, no more keeping secrets. They were together now, and nothing could stop them.

These promises were made of crimson blood. And these promises were made of sparkling tears. They blended to form purple; purple as a storm cloud-whirlwind-tornado, purple as a sweet plum, and purple as their bodies were when they were no longer living.


	2. Why Silent?

Disclaimer: (Did I put this in the first chapter? I forget. Oh well, it's here now.) Don't own Death Note. I think we all know this.

--

03. Why Silent?

It had been like this for days, days and not one minuscule difference. There was Mello, sitting on Matt's couch, staring at a speck on the wall, a crack in the ceiling, a freaking piece of dust. And Matt was getting tired of it.

Not a word came out of Mello's mouth for five straight days, which was highly unusual for the blonde. Sometimes it was hard to tell if it was real depression or just serious thinking; the kind where you're thinking so hard that it's past mumbling under your breath or even coherent thought, but it's still thinking. Matt would just mentally shrug and go back to being Link.

But, on the sixth day, even Matt was tired of nothing but bleeps and electronic fanfares. So, he shut off his game, stood up, grabbed Mello's wrist, and dragged him out of the apartment and down the street to the corner store. Mello stared at his surroundings like a confused puppy, and gave Matt a blank stare, but he still was speechless.

"Dammit, Mello! I drag you out of the house on a whim and you still don't say anything?!" Matt asked angrily as he shoved a bag of chips and a jar of peanut butter into the blue basket he had picked up by the door. "Why won't you tell me what's up?"

Mello cast his eyes towards the ground. "They're gone and it's my fault," he whispered.

Matt's face softened. "Aw, Mello," he breathed, setting the basket down on the floor. Right there, in the middle of Seven-Eleven, Matt threw his arms around Mello and pulled him tight to his chest. Some things could not be kept inside that long.

--

A/N: I was originally going to use a different prompt for this, but the story that I wrote for that one wasn't very good, so I wrote this. Yes, it's more work for me to re-do something than it is for me to just start all over. x3 Hope you liked it, anyway.


	3. Idea was

09. Idea was...

Stupid. It was so stupid; the worst thing he had ever thought of in his life.

What was the thinking when he thought up this grandiose plan? How had he not realized?

Realized what? That Takada would have about a bajillion body guards, and a bajillion black Mercedes for the bajillion body guards, which could, by the way, outstrip an old self-fixed-up Camero in a matter of seconds? That the Takada whore would write his name in a death note and kill him?

Mello had killed them both. And Matt still didn't even seem to blame him.

How could his idea have been so stupid?

--

A/N: Sorry for the non-update. I've been busy. D:


	4. Blue Flood

Blue Flood

The rain has been coming down in slate grey walls for three days and three nights straight. It's almost a miniature Noah's Ark, but people back then didn't have underpasses to drive through and ladybug umbrellas to keep them dry. The weatherman keeps prophesizing flash floods, warning people to beware of seemingly harmless large puddles and the rising waters of paved in streams turned drainage ditch.

The sky holds gaping black and grey clouds. They weep fat, huge drops. Matt and Mello stand at the dingy window in their living room. Thunder and lightning echo and flash across their walls and their faces in a perfect symphony. The orchestra reaches a crescendo and the lights dim, another high note and they flicker off completely.

Mello laughs, Matt smirks.

Even if either of them owned a ladybug umbrella, they wouldn't be going outside. The street is flooded, not enough to creep into the buildings, but enough to wet a pair of socks, should they so happen to be passing through.

Their hands snake together in the dim lightning glow. Both of them cannot help but appreciate the beauty of this particular storm. Matt notices two raindrops slinking down the window and points them out to Mello as they join to become one. The gesture, almost childlike, makes Mello smile. He wraps his arms around Matt. It feels perfect; simple pleasures.

There is a consensus and mutual feeling between the two: if a flood came to devour the world again, they wouldn't care, as long as they could drown together.

---

A/N: Hey... Long time, no see. Sorry. D: I actually quite like this one. And I wrote it with the sky being completely blue. Haha. Anyway, thanks for reading! :)


End file.
